A Bard's Tales
by Evakyl Nibelilt
Summary: Somewhere along the Sword Coast, a bard rests his weary legs at the Singing Serpent, an inn of middle class reputation. He earns his room and food for a performance. These are the beginnings of the tales he tells. In all actuality, these are some short stories about my characters backstories. All 31 of 'em. And counting.
1. Taman Stormwind: Wizard 4

Taman Stormwind

Wizard/4

Taman Stormwind quickly uttered a spell under his breath as the glass jar full of a sickly colored, roiling liquid fell off its perch on the top dark oak shelf. The jar slowed, then halted its fall, inches above the head of the very old and wrinkly assistant.

"Fumblemore." groaned Taman as he hurried through the disorganized mess called his lab to see if his assistant was okay. "What have I told you before over and over. Never animate constructs in the 'fragile' area of the lab."

The slightly senile Fumblemore muttered a few apologies as he quickly swiped what looked like a small humanoid figure out of the air, barely missing knocking over even more jars filled with more vicious looking fluids. Some of the jars were big, holding well over a gallon of mysterious fluids, while some were so small that even a mouse could not fit inside. The liquids were in all colors of the rainbow, odd objects like a piece of wood that was forever alight, or gasses that may or may not be leaking past their seals.

One jar filled with a sparkly blue fluid, unnoticed by both master and assistant who were discussing remedial lap safety lessons, teetered precariously on the very corner of the highest shelf. The jar slowly, as if in slow motion, fell off the shelf towards Fumblemore. Taman glanced up just in time to see the jar fall but not in time to cast a spell to stop it. Without thinking he thrust his right hand out, shoving Fumblemore out of the path of the falling jar. The jar collided with Taman's hand, shattering on impact dousing Taman's hand in the blue liquid. Taman's face screwed up in pain before relaxing as he fell unconscious, his hand being reduced to ash before his horrified assistants eyes.


	2. Draziroth Rasgar: Barabrian 6

Draziroth Rasgar

Barbarian/6

Draziroth. My beautiful home. Filled with happiness and companionship. The single clan that accepted you for who you were no matter the color of your scales. Destroyed. It was the most beautiful day the world had seen. The sun was shining high on the plains where the wind tussled with both the grass and the playing hatchlings. But the sun dimmed in the black smog. The wind shrieked with the warning of the nearing corruption. The grass being so playfully tussled not an hour before was now stomped into oblivion by the hundreds of iron lined boots as they marched across the now burning grasslands. Draziroth was my clan. No. Is my clan. And it was decimated by the cult of Tiamat, the goddess of all evil dragons. The only things we Dragonborn hold dear are our clan, honor and family, and now I have nothing but my honor to upkeep. I have sworn vengeance by taking up the sword inscribed with the names of my family and the staff of the clan chief. With these two weapons in hand, I shall bring about this Cult of the Dragon's end to make sure that my clan will be remembered at least in history as the clan who produced the hero who slew the terror that plagued all who did not bow to the will of Tiamat. I swear this upon my honor as a Dragonborn, the children of the great dragon god Bahamut. I swear this as the last living member of the Draziroth clan, or I shall be forever shamed. I, Draziroth Rasgar, have sworn this upon my life.


	3. Alton Underbough: Rogue 3

Alton Underbough

Rogue/3

Alton giggled softly from behind a barrel as he wiggled his fingers and watched as the noble's coinpurse slowly untied itself from its home at the noble's belt. The heavily laden purse then drifted towards Alton's three foot frame and softly landed in his hand like magic. Smiling with glee, Alton stood up from his hiding place and strode off, in the direction of the noble. There was a collective groaning from the other thieves as Alton strode through the crowded streets. All of the thieves guild thought that Alton was a little crazy because Alton loved his 'pranks'. Alton's 'pranks' ended up getting him in prison more often than not, but also got him out every time. Alton had now made it up to the noble and was striking up a conversation with the middle aged man. The sound akin to many hands clapping once echoed from the alley as all the thieves watching facepalmed. Alton then pulled out the coin purse and tried to give it back to the noble, a child like grin upon his face. The noble's hands darted to his belt, finding nothing then stared narrowly at Alton before bursting out laughing.

"I've been looking for someone like you." The smirked as he reached down and picked Alton up by the back of his shirt collar. The noble leaned in close and whispered "I was wondering if you would like to join my adventuring party, we need a thief as skilled as you. Alton simply smiled and nodded his head.


	4. Lia NaÏlo: Ranger 3

Lia NaÏlo

Ranger/3

I've been hunting him for the past seven years and he has escaped every time. Using all of my tracking abilities that I had taught myself through my childhood, I have tried time and time again to catch him, but he just melted away from any encounter like the fog in late morning. But this time, he was waiting for me. It was a nice day, the light wind rushing through the leaves of the dense forest before freely dancing through the air of the sunlit clearing ahead of me. An old man sat in the clearing the hood of his cloak removed as he watched the clouds, a bow sitting upon his lap. Bits of leather armor showed around the edges of his clothing. Curiously enough, no hint of an arrow was in sight with not a quiver in sight, but this was a clever old dog who had learned his tricks well.

"Come child." he said in an old creaky voice befitting his apparent age as he still watched as the clouds continued "You have searched long enough and you have found me. Come and follow me and I will teach you all you wish to know about being the ranger you wish to be."

I halted at the edge of the glade and peered suspiciously at the ranger. I gently muttered a spell under my breath as gestured towards the figure. Slowly he began to glow a soft purple.

"Ah, you are a crafty one. I guess this hunt continues." the illusion said as it began to fade. I could only smile as I began to search the area for his actual presence.


	5. Grim Greycastle: Bloodmage 11

Grim Greycastle

Blood Mage/11

"Ah fuck." I said as the bandit's knife plunged into my gut. "I can't believe you've done this."

"Well that's what ya get fo' insultin' the thieves guild mate." The heavily accented thief said as he twisted the blade. Blood was seeping into my casual off-shirt leaving large red trails from just below my heart into my brown pants. I grunted in pain but otherwise made no other noises or movements. After a moment, I sighed, grabbed the knife and dragged it across my body towards my waist leaving a long gash across my stomach. The thief's eyes widened in shock at my actions before staring terrified as the blood lept from my midsection and into his in the form of a solid blade.

"Wh, how?" he stuttered as his own blood began to spill onto the cobblestone path beneath our feet.

"Well that's what you get for challenging a blood mage to a close quarters fight, mate" I icily returned before turning my blood in his stomach into a rapidly spinning ball of spikes, eviscerating him from the inside out. The thief gave a loud cry of agony before falling to the ground holding his hand over his now blood red shirt. Within seconds he died of blood loss. I casually took the dagger out of my own flesh before flicking it out into some brush on the side of the path. I then reached into my bag, ruffling through the unorganized mess before finding the desired vial and downing the entire contents in one gulp. Slowly, the flesh of my gut sewed itself together as the healing potion worked its literal magic. I stared at my naked stomach for a second waiting as the ever painful marks of a blood mage re-carved themselves into the newly regenerated skin. I gently poked the brand like scars to make sure they were done before picking up my belongings and continuing along the path.


	6. Paelias Amakiir: Fighter 6

Paelias Amakiir

Fighter/6

I was shunned for my studies, punished for my experiments, and exiled for my findings. My name is Paelias Amakiir and I have been wandering the wastes of Purple Plains in the east for the past thirteen years in solitude. I was searching for the forgotten knowledge relating to my studies on the mystical Hammer of Sol. This hammer had the power of the sun concealed within its celestial steel head. The knowledge I have gained though, cost me greatly, for I now know things that could bring ruin to the world. I only hope that I was the first to find it. So to protect this knowledge and use it to protect the innocent, I have donned my platemail and taken up the result of my studies as a weapon. May those who bring evil to this land know the carnage of the flaming hammer of the heaven.


	7. Thia: Rogue 3 Sorcerer 1

The knife made a wet noise as it slid out of the man's chest, dropping fresh blood into the rain-soaked cobblestones of the moonlit alleyway.

"Now, now, we told you this would happen if you didn't get us the money." The tieflings voice slithered like a venomous serpent. "But since you didn't, we might have to go check on that lady friend of yours, see if she can make a small _donation._ "

The man's eyes widen in fear and worry as he tried to catch the blood threatening to expel itself like vomit from his mouth. No, the man thought as he slid down the stone brick wall of the alleyway, not Thia. His gaze grew hazy, slipping into darkness and back again before solidifying into a new scene.

Before him sat a small child, maybe four or five, but with skin as dark as charcoals and hair as white as moonlight. "Thia," The man whispered, recognizing the child he had taken from the forgotten corner of the Underdark during one of his old raiding trips. The child turned around and cocked her head as if trying to understand what he had just uttered before the man's vision began to flicker again.

This time, he was sitting at a rough oak table in cozy, almost homely house. A fire was roaring in the fireplace keeping the cold of the winter snow outside at bay. Across from him sat an elderly man, bald, and in a robe that seemed to outshine the snow outside in whiteness. Besides the bald priest, as the man recalled, sat Thia, looking roughly two years older peering at a set of books that were laid out across the table in a haphazard fashion. She was staring with such contempt that the man was afraid she might begin burning holes in the rather old looking books.

"Come on, read it with me." the old priest said as he pointed to a line in a book. "Here we go," The priest began reading an old children's poem but the tiny Thia refused to talk. The man smiled a bit, remembering how she always hated books. But as he continued to watch the endearing sight, his vision flickered before going black.

The man came to with a pain in his rump. Ah, he remembered this. This was the first time the now teenaged Thia beat him in a brawl. He slowly got up and popped his back before turning around and opening his eyes. Before him stood an outrageously gorgeous dark elf dressed in leather training armor he had borrowed from the guild. They were supposed to be given back a few years ago but the guild master had let him go with a laugh saying he knew how hard it was to find equipment those days. Now they barely fit the teen. The man had to divert his attention away from the curves that stuck out between the ill-fitting armor. He was brought out of his distractedness by Thia as she bounded up to him and pulled him into a large bear hug, pride and excitement written across her face. But before she could inevitably begin her cheerful chatter, the world fell to nothing yet again.

Now he was back in the alleyway, the snake-tongued tiefling and his two thugs laughing as they sauntered out of the alleyway and back into the city proper. Or at least that was what should have happened. In the blink of an eye, a dagger slid through all three necks, knocking them off their high perches. The owner of the dagger had only been visible a moment, but the man leaking blood in the dank alleyway had seen the telltale mark of moonlight hair. "Thia, he whispered as more blood dribbled out the corners of his mouth.

"Dad!" Thia almost shrieked as she emerged from the shadows at breakneck speed. She knelt down beside him and pulled out a med kit, trying uselessly to figure out what she needed. But she was no doctor, and he was already too far gone. Realizing this, he put a hand on her arm. Looking at her now, she had come a far way from the lost girl in the Underdark. Now she was a fine young woman that any man would fall for if not for her skin color. Twenty years will do that.

"Thia," the man began before the blood in his throat became too much and he was forced to let spill a mouthful of blood into the alleyway. The worry and concern on her face broke his heart. "Thia, my time has come." He put a finger to her lips to keep her silent. "There is nothing either of us can do right now, the cleric is out of the city right now. But you know that I mean, we stole his lockbox just yesterday!" The man's laugh turned into a ragged cough. "But since it is my time, my dear Thia, I want you to remember these last things." She opened her mouth to answer but he laid his finger back on her lips.

"One take care of yourself. I know about your side job," She blushed, as she had thought that _that_ particular thing had escaped his all-seeing eye. "I've known about it since you started doing it at eighteen." She blushed even harder now. "You are your own person and I respect that, but remember, not everyone is your friend, no matter how they act." She nodded, tears beginning to well up in her lilac eyes.

"Two, by Lliira, keep your alcohol budget separate from your needs budget. I don't want to come back from the dead just to pay your tab." Thia giggled wiping away some of the tears that had begun streaking her face. The man began chortling as well before the blood pouring from his mouth reminded him he didn't have a lot of time.

"And lastly, Thia, be free. The world is your oyster. Remember the book you hated to read so much when you were younger? The one about the poor girl who became Queen? That could be you. And when I look down from wherever I go, I want to see you doing all the great things you said you would. I want to see you sitting on a throne of gold. I want to see you chugging down a pint of mead with your friends after a job well done. I want to see you being you. So promise me, promise me, that you will live life to the fullest and be, free."

As the final words fell out of the old man's mouth, the brightness of life in his eyes dulled. In the alleyway of a moonlit city lay a lone dark elf woman, barely out of her teens, quietly crying as she cradled the arm of her guardian and savior to her chest. When the tears stopped coming, she wiped the remaining wetness from her eyes and leaned in close to the body fo the only one she ever loved and whispered, "I will Dad, I promise."


End file.
